Saturday, October 25, 2008

A few weeks back, as I reflected on the comments for my entry on Hunting Heresy in the Fathers, I realized that I was opening myself up to the criticism that I was denigrating the importance of heresy by critisizing those who were trying to identify heresy where they find it. I don't think I was, but I wondered if I needed to do a companion piece on why it was important that we identify and, if necessary, confront heresy.

Heresy hunting has, of course, a bit of a bad name. Many people tend to remember heresy trials throughout history and the frequently grim executions which resulted from these proceedings. This kind of thing is exactly the kind of thing that anti-religious people like to mention when they're trying to argue why religion has been the author of oppression and violence over the ages. Nor are they entirely wrong because I honestly think that these trials were un-Christian, although I really wish that these critics would remember that the executions were the state's job and, while the Church can and should be critisized for colluding in the trials and for endorsing the use of violence, the state bears a responsibility in this oppression and violence which is only rarely acknowledged.

What is more, there has been something of a linguistic shift in the last few decades in the use of the word heresy. There was a time, not so long ago, that calling someone a heretic was fightin' words. It was, at any rate, an insult. Yet, these days, a lot of people call themselves heretics because they see this as evidence of the independence of their minds. Orthodoxy is seen as too narrow and oppressive, so heresy is fresh and pleasantly unique. In that sense, heresy is an exciting eccentricity, nothing more.

So, all this begs the question of why we should bother with heresy in this day and age. Either we risk being seen as a cold-hearted oppressor or as a narrow-minded kill-joy. So, why should we as Christians care about heresy? Surely, this isn't about keeping a clipboard with all the things we need to believe to check off as we listen to each other?

At the end of the day, dealing with heresy is about how our beliefs affect how we relate to God. This is something that the Fathers themselves realized. We all know that St. Athanasius critisized Arianism based on its soteriological implications: the effect of making the Word/Son a creature is that it removes our mediator with God and the benefits of the resurrection (especially with the doctrine of recapitulation which is so characteristic of eastern theology of the period). St. Augustine critisized Pelagianism because of its tendency towards perfectionism. St. Irenaeus critisized Gnosticism because of its spiritual elitism and dualism. The Fathers didn't stand around with a clipboard to tick off the spiritual faux pas of their followers, but they were ardently concerned with the spiritual health of those under their spiritual care. If heresy is a distortion, a disease affecting our perception of God, surely we should diagnose the problem and try to treat it.

Heresy distorts our image of God and that is the source of this problem which heresy engenders. I know, in my own life, that my affinity to Deism- the 18th century heresy that God created the world, but no longer directly intervenes in His Creation- was a stumbling block for a very long. At the root of my sympathy to this heresy was a tendency to see God as remote to my life and a willingness that this remoteness continue. By God's grace, I learned about a God who was involved in the world and was actively redeeming it from the mess that we've made of it. I learned about a God who cares about me and who actively redeems my life from the various mistakes that I've made in my life. From this perspective, Deism strikes me as being a barrier to a stronger relationship with God.

That is, of course, a very personal example, but I think it is no less valid because of that. Part of the Christian life is to seek closeness to God, so anything which prevents that is something we need to deal with- lovingly and gently, but firmly. Ignoring it would be spiritually harmful which would be inimical to Christian discipleship.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

This is Mike Aquilina's, author of several popular patristics books like The Way of the Fathers, The Fathers of the Church and The Mass of the Early Church. , most recent offering and it is an excellent one. He is also the author of The Way of the Fathers blog- the sine qua non of patristic blogs. In Signs and Mysteries. Revealing Ancient Christian Symbols, Aquilina combines his interest in the Fathers with his fascination- demonstrated on his blog- with early Christian material culture. The combination in this book produces a unique resource and one which I would heartily recommend anyone, Catholic, Orthodox or Protestant, purchase for their own libraries.

The format of the book focuses on chapters dealing with the images themselves; twenty-five all told in addition to one background chapter. Each chapter works out the origin of each image, considers the Scriptural connection, highlights what the symbol means in a Christian context, discusses notable artifacts employing the symbol and cites patristic and modern writers who explain the symbol. Just as importantly, Aquilina'ssuperb illustrator, Marie Ravotti, has provided illustrations of many of these notable artifacts so that the reader can see as well as read about the symbols as they were employed in the early Church. The combination of text and image gives us an excellent resource for unlocking the common stock of Christian symbols which is the inheritance of all Christians.

Aquilina's writing is, as usual, lucid and easy to read. This is a hallmark of Aquilina's books which combine an easy-to-read style with careful thought and testing of the evidence. Aquilina rarely goes past the evidence and is careful, in this book, to note when an image could be ambiguous (used by more than just Christians) so that the reader will not make the elementary error of mis-identifying the use of, say, the ankh in a non-Christian context. Or we hope. Experts have made such errors as well.

Aquilina's main aim in this book was to create a symbology- a kind of key to the 'language' of Christian symbols and how they connect to our faith. This is a crucial task in our post-Christian environment in North America, where knowledge of the Bible and Christian symbols is minimal even among many believers, so many Christians wouldn't know a Christian symbol or what it means if it came out and bit them. Yet, we find ourselves in the West in the very peculiar position of being surrounded by Christian symbolism which has been disconnected from its original context and is in danger of being reduced to a kind of post-modern chaos of images and art. If we Christians want to reclaim our tradition, we have to learn again the symbolic 'language' of our art and literature. We need to remember that our Christian faith hasn't emerged fully formed out of God's forehead, but rather is the result of centuries of reflection, written and non-written, on the truth of our faith. Signs and Mysteries is an excellent resource in unpacking the meaning of this reflection.

This concern with symbology also warms my heart because it connects with my own theological sensibilities. One of the major influence on my theological thinking was a book I read several years ago: George Lindbeck's, The Nature of Doctrine. In that book, Lindbeck emphasizes the importance of doctrine as a 'grammar of faith'. That is, he argues that doctrine helps us speak about our faith intelligibly and meaningfully because it provides for us the 'language' of how to speak about God. Aquilina's book helps us with that grammar and connects it to the visual realm as well as the written. This is what makes it such a useful resource.

I heartily recommend this book for anyone interested in deepening their understanding of the 'language' of our faith. The language, I grant, has a Roman Catholic lilt to it, but not in such a way as to make it unintelligible to the Eastern Orthodox or Protestant reader. In fact, I plan to purchase a copy for the church library at the Anglican church I attend. It is too valuable a resource not to spread around a bit.

Joseph Walker on the felix hominum blog reflects on St. Cyprian's Unity of the Church, with an eye to the Anglican ecclesial 'Time of Troubles' in several parts- Intro, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6 and part 7. The series actually started in late August and I missed it, but this is a must-read not only for Anglicans, but for all those who love the Church.